


embracing useful fears

by nap_princess



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, But also, Death, F/F, F/M, Gryffindor!Mulan, Happy Ending, Harry Potter AU, Helsa Week, Helsa Week 2019, I AM the Hufflepuff represent, I Luna Lovegood-backstoried Idunna, I can't believe I had to do Math for this - simple Math but still Math, I forgot to tag death for a fic that talks a lot about it, Ravenclaw!Belle, Ravenclaw!Elsa, Slytherin!Adam, Slytherin!Elsa, Slytherin!Hans, Slytherin!Merida, Still on the bandwagon that Adgar is a bad dad, Take my 14K bullshit, and I ain't letting my babies get into danger with some sneaky children, arguable term??, in this house children never go hungry and are safe, so much is happening - no wonder this shit took so long to write, some of you may ask me - but Susan where are all the Hufflepuff representation??, that's right I declare myself as Mom!Hufflepuff, well lemme tell you something hoe, whoop de doo like that's a surprise, you'll get it when you see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/nap_princess
Summary: "Have I lost my mind or has Slytherin earned 500 points overnight?"– HansElsa, Harry Potter AU(Helsa Week 2019 - Day 5: Harry Potter AU)
Relationships: Adam & Merida (Disney), Elsa & Belle (Disney), Elsa & Fa Mulan (Disney), Elsa & Hans (Disney), Elsa & Merida (Disney), Elsa/Hans (Disney), Fa Mulan & Belle (Disney), Hans & Adam (Disney), Hans & Merida (Disney), implied Belle/Adam (Disney), implied Mulan/Merida (Disney)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	embracing useful fears

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Types of Slytherins](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/531362) by Nicholas Black. 
  * Inspired by [Types of Raavenclaws](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/531365) by Nicholas Black. 

> Notes 1: Geographically speaking, most of the Frozen characters would enroll in Durmstrang Institute but I'm already relying on my memory of Harry Potter from my 16/17 year old self and loads of Google searches, so, no thank you to extra research.
> 
> Normal people: Yay, magical Hogwarts AU!  
Me: Get ready for the constant cold, dreary, wet British weather. It's. always. raining.
> 
> Notes 2:  
Draco: Potter.  
Harry: Malfoy.
> 
> Elsa: Westergaard.  
Hans: (squints)  
Elsa:  
Hans:  
Elsa:  
Hans:  
Elsa: You forgot my last name, didn't you?  
Hans: … Yeah.
> 
> Notes 3: My favourite part of writing this fanfic is looking at Scottish Twitter and then trying to give Merida as many lines as possible (while giving Adam as little lines as possible so Merida could speak twice as much).  
Also, Belle has been creeping into my fanfics for some reason.

** embracing useful fears **

* * *

**i**

* * *

"I know Hogwarts doesn't teach Math but I can't be _that hopeless_." Elsa hears Mulan say as the Asian girl squints her eyes at the hourglass point system above their heads.

Elsa pauses, feet planted against the stony floor. She forces herself to stop rubbing her thumb over her left knuckle, the familiar bumps reflecting the mountains she often saw back home in Norway.

Her gaze that was previously focused on the red-and-gold Gryffindor scarf wrapped around Mulan’s neck moves to the tally of points that the four houses have gathered. Elsa calculates the Mathematics in her head before it clicks to her. Ah, she sees why Mulan's fretting.

"Have I lost my mind or has Slytherin earned 500 points overnight?" Mulan says to her Ravenclaw friends.

"You haven’t lost your mind," Belle answers back, brown eyes lifting from her novel before sweeping over the Great Hall. Walking while reading is one of Belle’s many talents, along with reciting knowledge – even if most of they came from _interesting_ places. "I heard that it’s Westergaard’s work."

“Eavesdropping again, were you?” Elsa asks.

“I can’t help it that people talk when I’m around.”

A grin tugs on her lips and Elsa hopes she doesn’t cross the line by saying anything too cheeky to Belle. "And here I thought you paid little attention to anything outside of your books." Elsa teases.

Mulan snorts and Belle rolls her eyes.

"I’ll have you know, I have an excellent attention span." Belle argues, her novel now tucked under her arm. "I'm not the one who missed the moving staircase and had to take _the long way_ to Ancient Runes."

Elsa makes a face but doesn't reply with anything back. She's convinced that the moving staircase is created purely to instil irrational terror, one misstep and someone might be falling to their deaths!

Fortunately, no one took Elsa’s silence as anything odd, they’re used to the blonde being silent and observant (as opposed to Belle who _was_ also observant but often liked to over-share her knowledge, almost talking a person’s ear off with all her facts and pieces of information).

Mulan steers the conversation back to the topic she brought up as she says, "Did I get stories mixed up? I thought Westergaard had lost 150 points?" while sounding displeased.

"That was last week, wasn’t it?" Elsa says knowingly.

"It _was_ last week.” Belle replies with an affirming nod. “And the loss of 150 wasn’t all Westergaard’s doing, it was a three-man job; he and his friends were caught sneaking around the castle after hours."

Mulan eyes Belle up and down, the hovering candles above Belle’s head made her brunette hair look _prettier_. Pretty, but still suspicious in Mulan’s book.

“You sure know a suspicious amount about them.” Mulan says.

“They’re interesting people to watch.”

“Wow, what a not-creepy thing to say.”

“I have my reasons.” Belle utters.

Mulan opens her mouth to say more but Elsa stops her friend short by perking up at a familiar face.

Grabbing Mulan’s attention, Elsa motions towards the Hufflepuff table. “There’s Cinderella, go get your notebook back.”

“You better hurry,” Belle adds. “I have to return a library book. The moving staircase is going to be a nuisance and I don’t want to be fined just because we missed a couple of seconds.”

Mulan does a little salute and totters over to the yellow-and-black themed table.

Elsa stands by Belle’s side, not uttering another peep, though she can’t help but stare at the back of Cinderella’s head; the sight of strawberry blonde hair reminds Elsa of her sister, Anna.

“Got it!” Mulan hollers, snapping Elsa from her daydream as Mulan waves her notebook in their air – her wrist exposing and showing off scribbles on her skin – then shoves it into her messenger bag.

“Okay, let’s go. All those stairs aren’t going to climb themselves.” Belle says, leading her friends out of the crowded Great Hall and towards the library.

“You know, it would be easier if we rode out brooms to the library.” Mulan points out.

Belle wrinkles her nose. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Is it? Or is it just frowned upon?” Mulan says cheekily.

Elsa lets herself grin. Of course, Mulan would say something like that. “Reckless brave, you are.” Elsa utters.

Mulan tugs on her bag and smiles. “That’s why I’m in Gryffindor.”

“Yeah, and I’m in Ravenclaw because I like knowledge.” Elsa snorts, mocking the traits people have stereotyped the four houses to be.

Mulan lets out a laugh to before looking at Belle. “Oh, please, can we? My bag isn’t the enchanted kind, I wish it was, but it isn’t. My shoulder is killing me!" Mulan whines in hopes of some rule-breaking.

“Do you want to win the House Cup or not?” Belle challenges.

“I do! You know how competitive I am!”

“Then don’t break the rules!”

“She's got you there, Mulan.” Elsa teases and Mulan pouts.

Belle and Mulan continued a ‘healthy debate’ based on their different point of views while Elsa said nothing, choosing to listen.

Just as the girls were exiting the hall, a loud laugh catches Elsa’s attention. She cranes her neck and glances over to the Slytherin table. Green filled her vision. Unlike the other tables mixed with students from different houses, Elsa notes that Slytherins tend to keep to themselves.

Another laugh rang out, and this time, Elsa manages to pinpoint the source.

The mischievous trio – Hans Westergaard and his two friends – seem to be having a grand time; with Hans and a redhead girl by his side making the most noise while the brute on Hans' left had an expression Elsa hopes is a hint of a smile.

Elsa can’t help but wonder, _What? Are they the Slytherin version of The Golden Trio now?_ with all their adventures and games and points? She’s heard the rumours surrounding them, the nonsense they get into, but she’ll never know what’s the truth unless she asks.

(Or unless she herself gets involved in their little schemes.)

* * *

Upon learning the rumour that a boy had discovered a Boggart hiding in an unused trunk, Mulan had talked about nothing but the particular topic. Maybe it was due to the fact that the rumour surrounded itself in ‘a test of bravery’, or maybe it was because there was nothing else to talk about at Hogwarts, but Elsa felt the need to clamp her cold hands over Mulan’s mouth.

(It feels like Mulan’s swapped places with Belle on a talkative level.)

“Apparent the boy almost collapsed from fear at the sight of the Boggart! Can you imagine having to face something so frightening?” Mulan chatters as Elsa listens, bobbing her snowy blonde head to show that she was paying attention. “Sounds like a nightmare, doesn't it? He was all alone too!”

Elsa nods again then asks, "What was the monster?"

"A Boggart."

"No, I mean, what creature did the Boggart turn into? What was the boy’s worst fear?” Elsa corrects her question.

“Oh! It didn’t even cross my mind to ask!” Mulan says then adds a small comment of ‘smart' under her breath. “I don't have the specifics, but I think it took shape of a dark horse with wings."

"A dark horse?" Elsa repeats. She wanted to stay unusually silent after that. She didn’t want to contribute to the conversation anymore.

Mulan didn't notice the sudden stillness though and ponders out loud, "I wonder what the winged horse creature is called! It could be a Pegasus, but I think anyone could be afraid of that! Plus, Pegasus’s aren’t dark, so.”

"It sounds like a Thestral." A voice says, causing the two girls to turn around with a jump.

"Belle," Elsa says, "Don't sneak up on people like that."

"I like sneaking around, it's a nice change from constantly having eyes on me." Belle says, referring to her prudential life at her small French village.

Mulan ignores Belle's ninja skills and asks, “Did you say it was a ‘Thestral’? Aren’t they supposed to be invisible creatures?”

“More or less.”

"Do you know much about them?”

Belle pauses for a moment before smiling, her brown eyes seeming to sparkle at the opportunity of spreading knowledge. “I remember reading about Thestrals in the Care of Magical Creatures textbook, they’re classification under XXXX."

"That’s the section for unknown beasts, right?" Mulan says, tilting her head.

"Kind of. Not many people are aware of a Thestral’s ability." Belle admits but then adds, "I will say though, I’ve heard rumours that there are _conditions_ to seeing the creature."

"Ooohhh. Do you know anyone who has?”

Elsa feels herself sweat slightly before managing to steady herself.

Belle puts a finger on her chin, thinking as if deep in thought. “Aside from the boy mention in the rumour? I can’t say.” Belle says. “But, even if I did, it’s not my place to tell you.”

.

.

.

She can't do this.

Elsa can’t do this.

Anger and disappointment would have seeped into her bones if she wasn’t so_ petrified_, frozen by fear at the incoming doom.

She _can't _combat the Boggart.

The wardrobe rattles and Elsa is sure that she'll drop her wand, or worse, collapse like that boy Mulan had talked about. She takes a step backwards, ready to flee when the wardrobe doors fly open and the Boggart takes form – becoming larger and darker.

_It looks **so real**,_ Elsa thinks.

Her professor had told her that the charm requires ‘a strong mind and good concentration’; that the incantation and wand movement alone will not be enough. But Elsa’s heart is pounding_ too fast _and her hands are shaking_ too much._

Elsa can’t phantom turning the creature into a ‘figure of fun’. She’s certain that it will be an impossible task to dispel her terror. How can she transform it into an amuse comical form? How can she force the Boggart into something less threatening?

She hates that the other solution to wave her fear away is to laugh aloud. But, what she hates the most is the fact that she has to face the one thing she's most afraid of in front of her classmates. How will she be able to raise her wand and shout, 'Riddikulus!'?

"Hey!" A familiar voice _shouts_. Actually shouts.

Elsa’s glacier blue eyes yank away from the Boggart to her wand in hand to the person calling her. She turns just in time to see someone step forward, emerald green cape swishing behind him.

Elsa just stands there, gapping. Out of everyone in this room rushing to save her, it’s _him_?

"It's okay, it's not real." He promises, his own wand out and pointing.

Elsa can't even reply, a dark feeling nags at her. She thinks horrid thoughts of failure and despair, it was like she was facing a Dementor instead of a Boggart.

“_Hey,_” He inches forward some more.

The Boggart moves away from Elsa, taking him – her saviour – into consideration. The Slytherin boy does not even react at the creature’s shift in attention but Elsa panics. Where's the professor that's supposed to be watching over the class?

The Boggart starts shifting a little before stopping, remaining in its previous form. Wha – _What?_ Shouldn't it turn into a combination of two fears like the professor had said?

Elsa’s mind races before it hits her.

The Boggart isn’t changing forms because –

"_Riddikulus!_"

– Hans Westergaard faces the same fear as Elsa does.

* * *

**ii**

* * *

Elsa’s head has been in the clouds for several days now. She barely registers the lessons being taught, much less the conversations that floated between her friends as the girls walked down the corridors to their next class.

"I wish I didn't take Potions." Mulan grumbles, adjusting the strap of her messenger bag that’s weighing her tiny figure down.

"Be glad that you're not with the Sea Witch," Belle had a habit of handing out creative titles. She’ll stop using them as a fun salvation when school stops being stressful and boring.

"The Sea Witch? Do you mean Professor Ursula? Hmm, I guess. But, Professor Facilier isn't all that great either."

"True,” Belle sighs, struggling against the heavy textbooks in her arms. “But the Shadow Man isn’t impossible. You can flatter his ego just enough for him to tell you how to change your Exceeding Expectations grade to Outstanding. The man gives out tips! I don't think the Sea Witch has ever given anyone anything above Acceptable."

“Look, if you’re barely getting an Acceptable then I’m going to get a Troll. I can’t fail my O.W.L. exams!” Mulan moans.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

A complaint of ‘Are you kidding me? No way!’ stays in Mulan’s throat when she turns her head and takes notice of Elsa. The blonde's completely ignoring the conversation and simply staring ahead.

Belle notices this too. They both exchanged a look – it’s not like Elsa to space out.

"Elsa?" Belle calls.

Elsa didn't even blink.

"_Elsa_." Belle says again, elbowing the blonde lightly.

Elsa's eyes pull away from the crowd of students ahead. "Huh?"

"What are you staring at?" Belle asks back.

"Nothing."

Mulan had to stand on her tippy toes to accommodate for her height, but she managed to pinpoint _what_ Elsa was looking at. Or, rather, _whom_. "Wait, are you staring at Westergaard?"

_Yes._ "... No."

"You’re a terrible liar.”

"Okay, maybe," Elsa says.

“Are you catching feelings?” Mulan asks in a teasing manner as she bumps her shoulder against Elsa’s.

Elsa shouldn’t have been flustered over the misunderstanding but she found herself crossing and uncrossing her arms. “No, Mulan, _listen_. It’s not – I’m not –”

“You don’t have to hide it.”

“I’m hiding or concealing anything.” Elsa says, picking at the sleeves of her bright blue Ravenclaw sweater.

“Okay, suuure.”

Elsa manages to shake her head in embarrassed frustration before turning to her brunette friend and asking, “Belle, do you remember the incident that happened last Friday?"

"You mean the Boggart incident?" Belle double-checks.

“What Boggart incident?” Mulan asks.

Elsa’s face turns pink, self-conscious by her lack of bravery during the moment. “I – I panicked during Defence Against the Dark Arts class, I failed to cast the _Riddikulus_ spell and … Westergaard sort of stepped in and … saved me?”

"He saved you?" Mulan gaps.

"I – Okay, maybe ‘saved’ isn’t the right word. The Boggart probably wouldn’t have hurt me with the professor near-by. _Still_, I was scared and Westergaard helped. I want to thank him.”

“You can do it now. Just catch up to him and tell him you were grateful.” Mulan says, speaking like the spontaneous person that she is.

“It’s too crowded,” Elsa says shyly, reverting back to a shell she seldom visited.

“You’re just thanking him, it’s not a grand gesture.”

“That’s true, but Slytherins tend to keep to themselves,” Elsa says, thinking back to the moment at the Great Hall. “I’m afraid his friends might think otherwise. I’ll be intruding on their banter.”

“It wouldn’t be rude … would it?” Mulan asks, not getting it.

“Theoretically speaking – no.” Belle says matter-of-factly, hugging her books close to her chest. “But I wouldn’t find it surprising if they did give Elsa a weird look.”

“Are they afraid that someone will break into their circle?”

"It's more than that." Belle says with a frown, “It’s not Slytherin’s fault either, they’re just not used to being included by other houses. If someone does try to chat them up, they’ll think there’s an ulterior motive. A lot of people still have a prejudice against them, it’s … bad. Not only does it create a social divide, but it also forces Slytherins to rely on and form loyalties among _only_ themselves.”

“I’ve never noticed.” Mulan says, her voice now small.

“A lot of people pretend to turn a blind eye.” Belle says, a firm line now set on her mouth.

Elsa finds herself mirroring Belle’s expression as she looks ahead, catching glimpses of bright red hair and emerald green robes.

* * *

She can’t sleep.

Elsa had gotten out of bed after tossing and turning for _hours_. She’s trying to figure out how to approach Hans Westergaard of Slytherin; a house known for its solitude. Elsa’s a little shy, a little hesitant in approaching people. She manages, she’s friendly, but she’s never kicked down a locked door and demanded sincere conversation.

How is she going to do this? She could get it over and done with quick and easy steps, catch up to Hans when he’s alone – as if he’s _ever _alone – and speak to him. Tell him her thanks and gratitude then disappear from his life as if nothing happened, but – the Boggart.

She wanted _to know_, they shared the same fear, she didn’t even think that was possible, but it is!

“Why are you afraid? Who was it?” She asks out loud.

_Merlin_, she’s tired of thinking. She wishes the Ravenclaw tower had a kettle so she could make tea without climbing down to the kitchen.

Now perched by the windowsill, she attempts to ease her restless mind while absent-mindedly drawing in her sketchbook. No such luck.

Or, maybe … luck came in another form?

As Elsa gazes out into the night, she catches sight of three dots of red running in the open grassy field below the tower. She didn’t even have to guess what the red dots were – it was Westergaard and his friends.

(If it weren't for their bright red hair, then she would have to thank the colour of their sweaters as a dead giveaway.

The uniform has changed since Harry Potter's time, they had gotten rid of those ridiculous pointy hats – thank goodness! – but in return received jumpers that were obnoxiously loud in colour, far too eye-catching and bright.)

Upon leaning in closer, Elsa notes that the trio wasn't simply running, they were being _chased_ by the groundkeeper who was shaking his fist in the air.

Elsa snorts, it was a little funny. She estimates that 200 points will be deducted in the next five minutes – no, maybe two? Two minutes.

She continues watching the hilarious chase before something clicks in her head.

.

.

.

Elsa stares at the scribbled down answers and the doodles at the edge of her Charms notebook before she gathered her bravery. Looking up at Belle who had her nose buried in a book, Elsa hopes this goes well.

The Ravenclaw common room is quiet and never in Elsa’s life has she been grateful for the Quidditch game. (She never did understand it and she would _never _put herself in such a position – suspending herself in mid-air, risking getting hit with flying balls and beater bats, or falling off her broom.) Regardless, Quidditch has given her an opportunity, the game has gathered a majority of the students at the sports arena, and now, there’s nobody around to eavesdrop so she may as well put her plan into motion now.

“Belle?”

“Hmm?” Belle hums, more towards her book than her friend. The brunette is comfortably pressed against a big armchair, her mind in another world. She probably won’t participate in the conversation as much as Elsa would like but that may be an upside.

“Did you hear that Westergaard and his friends lost 200 points this morning?” Elsa asks carefully. 150 points for sneaking out after midnight and an additional 50 points for running away from the groundskeeper.

“Yeah,” Belle answers absent-mindedly.

“Interesting bunch, aren’t they?” Elsa continues.

“I suppose so.”

“You know …” Elsa fiddles with her pen (fuck ye old quills and ink pots) and draws a tiny sunflower in a corner of her skin. “I never did catch their names.”

“Who’s names?”

“Westergaard’s friends.”

Elsa’s answer seems to have pulled Belle out of her reading. “You don’t know their names?” Belle asks, raising her head.

Elsa lifts a shoulder half-heartedly. She can’t say that she’s self-involved, she simply never had a reason to learn who was who (until now). At the very least, she remembers their faces. The image of two redheads appears in her head – a girl with wild curls and a tall boy with shoulder-length hair.

“Well …” Belle says, slowly blinking at the pages of her book before shutting it. She seems hesitant, a little reserved. Belle doesn’t like talking when she can’t present all the facts. "From what I can tell you, the girl – Merida DunBroch – she’s Westergaard’s right-hand-man. She's fast; both in her actions and in the way she talks."

Elsa nods, remembering last night’s event. If it had been a race, Merida was the first in line, running ahead of the boys. “What about the guy? The one that’s always scowling?”

“A – Uh.” Belle says, a troubled look passes over her face. “He doesn’t say much. He’s pretty well-known for his silence.”

“Isn’t it rumoured that he’s the bodyguard of the group?”

Belle’s eyebrows squeeze together like she wouldn’t personally recommend reliance on such a rumour but doesn’t deny it. “He does have the built for it.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Most of the Slytherin students refer to him as ‘The Beast’,” Belle says shrugging. “I can’t say much, those three are mostly known for their trouble-making.”

_And the fact that they keep getting caught._ Elsa thinks before realising something. “Westergaard and DunBroch are part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, aren’t they?” Families that are considered ‘truly pure-blood’. “The Beast might be on the list too.”

“Maybe.” Belle shrugs again. “Are you going to look into it?”

“I don’t think so.” It’s not relevant.

Belle eyes her friend. “Why are you suddenly curious about the bunch?”

“No special reason. You’re just a well of knowledge, I like testing you, it’s fun to see how much you know.” Elsa teases, a returning jab for the moving staircase witticism, before changing the subject, "Have you noticed that the Slytherin house has a spiking number of redheads?"

"Aren’t Gryffindor known for their redheads?"

“Are they?” Elsa muses. “Times must be changing.”

* * *

**iii**

* * *

"Oh, shite."

They all froze – Elsa with her two feet planted to the bottom of the steps and the two Slytherin students looking like deers at the headlight. Elsa had caught them mid-mischief.

"Um, I'm going to the kitchen to make a cup of tea." Elsa says like she’s talking about the weather, her thermos held in full view.

"We're, uh, takin’ a midnight stroll," The girl says back, her Scottish accent evident and thick.

Due to the darkness of the corridors and the dim torch fire, it takes Elsa a moment to see who she’s talking to. But Elsa has a hunch on who they are, she had intentionally planned this exact moment to run into them.

Merida DunBroch is looking at Elsa with nervous baby blue eyes and the boy who towers over them is ‘The Beast’.

"_Go away._" The Beast suddenly growls at Elsa.

Elsa’s eyes go wide and she stares at him in surprise. His eyes are a striking shade of bright blue. This is the first time she’s heard ‘The Beast’ speak so openly. This is also the first time she's stood within such a close proximity to him. She almost immediately takes note of his strong, well-build body; he almost looked beastly. Is that the story behind his nickname?

"Whatcha foamin' over the mouth for, Adam? We’re not doin’ anythin’ wrong. Keep ya mouth shut." Merida says.

‘Adam’ turns away from Elsa and looks at Merida.

The Scottish girl brushes off the glare that Adam shoots her, returning his heated stare with her own look; one that told him that she’s not an idiot and that she’s not going to spill any unnecessary information.

Meanwhile, Elsa makes a mental note of ‘The Beast’s real name before her attention is pulled back by the heat of Adam’s stare. It is a little unnerving, but Elsa considers it as a weak glare.

“You do this often, don’t you?” Elsa says, surprising even herself with such a question.

“D – Do what, lassie? Midnight strolls? Well, not really, but some fresh air never does anyone harm, do they?” Merida fibs. She offers a grin that fits her well.

Elsa passes the redhead girl a look. “I know that you’re sneaking out.”

Merida’s grin drops but her friendly tone doesn’t disappear. "I suppose there’s no reason bluffin’, ay? We’re pretty well-known for our antics, being troublelin’ gives ya a reputation.”

Adam didn’t soften his glare, though Elsa noticed that he did look somewhat disappointed that Merida didn’t even try to lie.

“Aren't you tired of getting caught?" There’s a gentleness behind Elsa’s words, she doesn’t know if the Slytherins would appreciate it.

“Are ya worried ‘bout us?” Merida asks, sounding shocked that Elsa would care about them.

Elsa nods. To her surprise, she sees Merida’s eyes light up.

“Ya don’t have tae get emotional ‘bout it, we explore all the time.”

Elsa makes a mental note of that too. So that's what they do? Explore?

“Folks keep tellin’ us it’s risky business but we think it’s worth it.” Merida continues rambling on.

_Worth it? _“Why put yourself through all that trouble?” Elsa asks.

“Are ya tellin' me ya never looked at dis big o' castle and wondered ‘bout the secrets it keeps?"

Elsa finds herself interlocking her hands out of nervousness. "It depends. What's there to see?"

The heat of Adam’s gaze lands back on Merida.

Once again, Merida ignores it and tells Elsa, "I heard one o' the loos has a secret passage with bones and there's another room called ‘The Room o' Requirement’. I don’t know what’s in it, but it sounds excitin’,"

Elsa didn’t look convinced though.

"In case ya missed all the ruckus, we know how tae earn our keep. Did ya hear ‘bout the 500 points we earned, ah, two weeks ago?" Merida replies with a wave of a hand.

"I thought that was Westergaard's doing?" Elsa says.

"Did he get all the credit? Is that why he’s been actin' like a wee cunt 'bout it? I'm the one who climbed up that wall! Dis is rubbish, I didn’t do it for a laugh!" Merida argues.

Her complaining is short-lived though; Hans appears around the corner with his wand shining light and his robes swishing behind him.

"What's taking you guys so long, the groundkeeper will catch us if we don’t – Oh fuck, we're going to lose 150 points again, aren't we?" Hans utters when his emerald-eye stare lingers on Elsa.

"Uh," She fiddles with her hands, not liking the attention.

“Would you believe me if I said this was all a strange dream?” Hans asks.

Elsa only responses by scrunching up her face. For a group known to sneak out a lot, they sure are terrible liars.

Hans only sighs in defeat. "Figures. Okay, tell you what, if you don't speak a word of this to anyone, none of us will lose 50 points each."

Just as Elsa had suspected, the trio cared about the points they earned and lost – much like most of the Hogwarts students. Their previous 500 points earned would mean nothing if they lost it all. They had already lost 150 about three weeks ago and then another 200 this week. If they lost 150 tonight then it leaves them with a big fat 0.

The Hogwarts Cup never meant much to Elsa, Ravenclaws are known to be as equally competitive as Gryffindor but usually revolving academic studies. She supposes that played a key role in their different views.

If it was up to Elsa, she would be thinking about the consequences of the punishment that came after breaking the rules. The possibility of detention spent at the Forbidden Forest.

However, there was also the factor that Slytherins are loyal among each other and nobody else; losing points could mean more than what it seems, dragging the worth of their house was probably frowned upon. They probably thought they needed those points to prove something and to show that nobody could ruin Slytherin.

Elsa’s mind whirls at the endless possibilities of what they _could _achieve tonight with her insight. She had come here for a reason.

Elsa thinks of her unpaid debt to Hans. She thinks back to the Boggart and the moment she stood frozen in fear. Maybe she can be brave this time? Maybe Elsa could help Hans and his friends?

Her fingers subconsciously started drumming against her thermos. "I won't tell anyone." Elsa promises.

"You … won't?" Hans asks suspiciously, his eyes narrowing. His friends mirror his distrusting expression.

"I won't,” Elsa repeats.

There’s a moment of silence.

“There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

Elsa nods. She knew that he would have this thinking, Belle had said so. “I do have one condition.”

“Are ya blackmailin’ us?” Merida asks suspiciously.

“No.”

“Money?” Adam asks, making Elsa wonder if Adam was part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight or at least from a traditionally wealthy background.

“_No_.”

The trio exchanges glances among each other. Their expressions read confusion, as if they couldn't think of any reason why_ a_ _Slytherin outsider_ like Elsa would want anything from them. They really are a tightly knitted group.

To kill the suspense that hung in the air, Elsa steps forward and gets straight to the point. “You let me come with you whenever you go exploring, that's my condition."

Hans bites the inside of his cheek. His wand was still under the _Lumos_ incantation but that didn’t mean he couldn’t cast a new spell on her if he felt threatened. "You want to come with us?" He asks.

Elsa hesitates, licking her bottom lip.

Adventure is more of Belle's thing, but ... she worries. Hans ‘saved’ her back in the Defence against the Dark Arts class and she doesn't want him to get hurt. She wants to repay his good grace.

"Yes, I want to go with you.” She says then briefly explains how her involvement could be beneficiary – all while pretending it was a spontaneous idea forming from her mind. Has anybody ever questioned how a Ravenclaw is ‘smart’? She doesn’t think so, she hopes her bullshit is enough. She hopes her stereotype of being ‘intelligent’ was enough of a coverage.

Elsa doesn't know how she'll be of use, she admits this to them, but her plan is to act as a lookout.

“There must be a reason to why you lot keep getting caught and losing points.” She says.

She tells them that the flaw in their sneaking out plan is probably the fact that they get _too invested_ in their scheming to notice someone catching them mid-act. With Elsa and her observant nature, they can probably manage and get away with more nonsense.

(There is a likely scenario that they _will_ be getting caught. But, it _could_ be worse, Elsa _could _panic and throw her thermos at the groundskeeper then maybe lose 300 points or a larger amount.)

Also, Elsa won’t lie, she is interested in knowing what the trio get up to and why they sneak out in the first place.

What she doesn’t tell them though, is that she wants to find a way to get close enough to Hans to ask him about the Boggart.

.

.

.

Maybe this was a mistake?

It feels ... odd.

Elsa feels like that friend who had to walk behind everyone at a narrow sidewalk.

"Hey," Hans' voice snaps Elsa out of her self-doubt, yanking her back to the stone walls and torch lights.

Elsa looks away from the bends around the corners and sees Hans peeking between Merida and Adam's shoulders.

"Why are you all the way back there?" He asks her.

She makes a face. Well, she did loiter a little behind but she doesn't think the gap between her and them are too big.

"Weren't you the one who wanted to go on a spontaneous adventure?" Hans continues. "Come here." His freckled hand snaps between Merida and Adam, snatching Elsa's wrist and pulling her forward.

"Wha –"

"This is your first time breaking the rules like this, isn't it?” Hans asks, his hand still around her sleeve.

Elsa stares then nods mutely.

A grin grew on his face. “Then it's best you have a front-row seat." He guides her by his side.

"I, I don't –"

"Are you backing out?"

"No." Elsa found herself saying then repeating, "_No_."

"Then walk beside me." Hans says.

A knot of anxiety untangles itself in her chest. “O – Oh, okay.”

His expression then turns serious. "You can walk beside Merida or Adam too if you want. Heck, the hall's big enough for all four of us to walk together. We'll occupy the space but it's not like it'll inconvenience anyone. But, the main point is – we walk as a team. Don’t walk behind us, walk with us, get it?”

With that, he let's go, his hand disappearing underneath his green robes.

.

.

.

With her observant eye, Elsa’s the one who spots the door first. The four of them stumbles into what looked like a storage room.

“It’s even colder in ‘ere than it is in those blasted halls!” Merida says in a whisper that sounded more like a yell and tugs her pea colour sweater closer to her shivering body. “Aren’t cha cold?”

Adam shrugs while Elsa murmurs a soft, “The cold doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, I’m freezing mah ass off. If someone doesn’t bring back the sun then they should at least cast a fire incantation.”

“Don’t be reckless, what if we end up burning everything in sight?” Hans scolds.

“It’s just garbage anyway.” Merida gestures to the piles and piles of old furniture and oddities stacked high, almost reaching the ceiling.

Hans’ mouth forms a thin line and he looks around the room. “I say we split up.” He says.

“Ya _what_ mate? Have ya never seen a horror movie in yer life?"

“If we split up and search the place, we’ll cover more ground and maybe find something useful.” Hans utters, already taking a step towards a direction.

Merida shakes her head, reaching out and yanking Hans back. “Why on earth would I want tae look ‘round such a crap room? It's colder than the North Pole in ‘ere and it's spooky lookin',"

“For one, we’ve studied at Hogwarts for seven years and not once have we stumbled upon this room, don’t you think it’s a little strange?” Hans reason, prying Merida’s grip from him.

Merida scans the room a second time, eyes now squinting at the tops of the makeshift piles. “Ya best not waste mah time, Hans. I skipped doin’ my Divinations homework for dis.”

“It’s a Dream Diary and you know it.”

.

.

.

"It looks too fancy tae be left in a room like dis." Merida says.

The dusty white sheet that had previously concealed the mirror was gripped in Hans’ freckled hands and the four of them stared at the grand vanity in fascination. Out of everything in the room, this looked the most noteworthy.

"Mirror of erised." Adam says, making Elsa jump, she's not used to Adam speaking yet.

"Come again?" Elsa inquires politely.

“That’s the mirror of erised.” Adam utters a little louder.

"Now I know yer makin' up words, laddie." Merida says, giving Adam the evil eye.

"I'm not. Didn’t you pay attention to class?”

“Which class? What are grades?” Merida says sarcastically.

Adam points to the mirror as an emphasis of importance. “The mirror of erised is an old relic, it shows anyone their deepest desires."

Elsa finds herself looking at Hans who was oddly quiet. He was staring at his reflection with intent.

Merida didn’t seem to mind the lack of group conversation though, talking above everyone. "Shouldn't the mirror be locked up somewhere better like a vault? What's it doin' lying 'round 'ere?"

Adam shrugs, choosing to be silent once more. His face read, ‘Why are you asking me? I'm just as lost as you are.’

"Oh, dis is pish," Merida says, looking at the old thing covered in dust. "I don't have anythin' tae desire, I have everythin' I want and more, c'mon, Adam, let’s look ‘round this junkyard."

Merida rolls her chin in a direction in which Adam sighs loudly but follows without much of an argument.

Elsa watches the duo leave before turning back to the old relic. Now it was just her and Hans, reflecting on the mirror and its surface that fed hungry eyes.

In another time, maybe Elsa would have spent her time looking at anything else in the room; the wooden wardrobe in the corner, a giant rook statue placed at the centre of the room, maybe even at Hans who stood very still, but – right now, like him, like Hans, Elsa’s too busy staring at the reflection in the mirror.

* * *

**iv**

* * *

"You're here again?" A voice calls.

Elsa turns away, looking at a new pair of eyes – emerald green instead of shades of blue. The dusty white sheet was wrapped around her pale hands this time instead of Hans' freckled ones.

"Where are Merida and Adam?" Elsa chooses to ask back.

Hans’ face scrunches up and he reaches to smoothen his bright red hair. "They can't seem to find the room."

“They can’t?” Elsa echoes.

“No.”

"Do you know why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Elsa licks the bottom of her lip. "We're in the Room of Requirement, aren't we?"

An amused grin scrawls up his face. "Perhaps." He says then looks at his reflection in the mirror, two people stared back.

* * *

A paper aeroplane floats into her room, lighter than air and full of trouble, probably wedging itself under doors and little nooks just to get to her. If she wasn't wide awake, the pointy part of the aeroplane would undoubtedly poke her awake and she would have screamed.

Elsa stares at the enchanted paper in alarm. Who’s writing notes to her at such an hour? She’s tempted to shoo the thing away, but curiosity wins her over. And soon, she’s opening her left palm, waiting for it to land like a butterfly.

As it unfolds itself, Elsa reaches towards her bedside table; avoiding her wand and choosing to snatch her torchlight. Light aluminates and she reads scratchy ink writing upon parcel paper.

**Come to the Ravenclaw common room. I'll be waiting outside the window. **

**– H**

Elsa furrows her brows. H? Hans? Outside the Ravenclaw Tower window? Hans_ must_ be crazy, but – again – her curiosity piques her, never would she imagine Hans reaching out to her.

To be honest, she wasn’t even sure if her ‘I’ll be look-out’ plan would work. Even if it did, it probably would have only played out as a one-time thing. Really, there’s no other reason for the Slytherin trio to invite her on another adventure, but it appears Hans has _others_ plans to include her.

Tossing her blanket aside and – this time – grabbing her wand, Elsa finds her bare feet travelling down the cold stone steps and onto the warm carpet laid by the fireplace in the common room.

Her glacier blue eyes make out a figure looming outside the window. It’s a little scary, and _very suspicious_, but she throws open the closed thing anyway.

The cold air hits her like a slap across the cheek before Elsa takes in the sight of Hans riding on a broomstick.

"I want to talk about the mirror of erised." Hans says without waiting for a greeting or a question.

Elsa goes mute, blinking in confusion. Her eyes travel across the room, trying to figure out if she’s dreaming. The starry sky outside and the domed ceiling fills her vision. It all looks too real to be a dream.

“Now?” Elsa gaps.

“Now.”

"It can’t you wait until daylight?" Elsa whispers, a little irked as coldness seeps into her nightgown.

“I think it’s urgent.”

"This isn't normal." Elsa tells him.

He’s lost his mind; visiting her in such a state, dangling hundreds of feet in the air, secured and suspended by a flimsy broom. She could reach out and push him, _hard_, and he could fall to his death the same way anyone can fall from those dreaded moving stairs she hates.

"Why on earth would I want to be normal?" Hans asks. He had that crackle, that sense of mischief twinkling in his green eyes. "That's a very muggle way of thinking."

Elsa feels something twist in her belly. "And that's a very pure-blood way of thinking." But, she can’t say that she’s surprised, he’s part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"Are you offended?"

"Yes." Elsa replies.

“Why? Are you a half-blood?”

“Yes.”

“Muggle heritage?”

“Yes. My father.”

They stare at each other for a while before her anger subsides. She doesn’t know how she can let it go so easily, he didn’t even apologise or try to appear sincere.

“Where are the others?” She asks, maybe as a sort of distraction.

“Probably in bed.” Hans answers.

Elsa eyes the redhead, trying to read him. “Then why –”

“I told you, I want to talk about the mirror.” Hans says as if that itself is an explanation, as if saying, ‘You and me, we’re the only ones who looked into that mirror and cared.’

“It’s just a mirror.” Elsa replies, speaking his language despite his lack of clarification. Though, her tone came off more negative than supporting.

“It can’t just be _a mirror. _It can’t just show you the thing you desire the most and then leave it as it is; without the possibility of achieving it.”

“So what? Are you looking for a way to make your desire a reality?” Elsa frowns.

“If possible – yes. I want us to do research on it.” Hans says. By the tone of his voice, there’s no way to decline, even if there isn’t an offer to begin with.

“Hans, I – I don’t know.”

“You’re a Ravenclaw,” He says.

Elsa’s fingers curls against her nightgown. She wants to snatch the handle of the window and close it rudely in his face. _As if being a Ravenclaw means something._ She thinks.

People always expect her to know all the answers and to be brilliant, but she’s not on the same level as Belle. She’s observant but she doesn’t inhale knowledge like her friend. Elsa’s creative, she draws intricate buildings and castles in her free time; that’s what she uses her observance skill for most of the time. Not to solve mysteries and hunt for clues.

But she tells him none of this. Instead, she clears her throat and says, “I’m not that kind of Ravenclaw.”

“No, I don’t believe it.” He shakes his head, fingers tightening around his broomstick. “I don’t believe that you’re just _one thing _and nothing else. Don’t you solve riddles on a daily basis? That talking _eagle_ that guards your common room door, it demands an answer every day and one way or another, you provide it with a correct response.” He says to her, filling her with false confidence.

She looks away, a little ashamed. “You expect too much of me. I don’t always get it right.” _Belle answers most of them._

“But, you don’t always get it wrong either. Stop being modest.” Hans tells her. He sounds _so certain_, like they’re _this_ close to stumbling into the unknown. Merlin, why are Slytherins so stubbornly ambitious? “Give it a try.” He says.

Her hands shake with frustration, and in the glow of the moonlight, she sees that there are still traces of freckles on his cheeks. “Do you even know what you’re going to do?” She asks.

A cocky grin shouldn’t have formed on his handsome face, but it did. And he answers, “The same thing I always do – I’m going to break some rules.”

.

.

.

He disappears, leaving the mouth of the night open and her brewing in her thoughts. She realises she didn’t even have the chance to ask him what exactly did he see in that enchanted mirror and what was it that he desired so much.

.

.

.

(But, it may be a good thing that she never asked, because if she did, then he would ask her the same question and she isn’t sure if she can answer.)

* * *

"You do know that you can use magic, right?" Came a voice as Elsa froze, her hand stretched above her head, clumsily trying to reach for a book on the high shelves.

Elsa takes a peek to see who's addressing her, only to raise her eyebrow at Hans. What's he doing talking to her when the sun is out?

"I'm using a stool." Elsa replies, drumming her shoes against the sturdy surface to emphasize its good use.

"You think too much like an old fashion Muggle." Hans says, squinting at her with watchful green eyes.

Elsa turns away, pretending to not mind. "I just don't like relying on magic too much."

He continues staring at her as if amused. “Why not? What’s wrong with magic?”

A sensation climbs up her throat. She wants to say, ‘Everything!’ with a scream but _can’t _bring herself to. It would bring too much drama, too much discord. And that’s the last thing she needs.

She wants this to be a short exchange, Elsa knows Belle practically lives at the library and the last thing she wants is her friend nosing into her sudden life of ‘adventure' and rule-breaking.

"Are you going to help me get this book or are you just going to stand there? You’re the one who suggested doing research, do something then." She says to him.

His smirk never drops but she didn't need to ask him twice.

"_Acio!_”

* * *

When Hans had first told Elsa that they were sneaking into the Prefect's Bathroom, Elsa had found herself both surprised and unsurprised. The Bathroom’s restricted to Prefects, Head Boys, Head Girls and Quidditch captains but it’s not … not …

“A tough place to crack?” Hans asks after Elsa had voiced her opinion.

Elsa nods. She doesn’t mean to be rude. What she means to say is, it doesn’t seem challenging enough for the trio.

“We have a new objective tonight.” Merida grins, her round face looked gleeful.

“We do?” Elsa raises a brow.

This time, Adam’s the one to reply – with a silent nod, that is.

“We like making trips here. Of course, it’s _no fun_ when a prefect catches us.” Hans says, pulling emphasize on the word ‘fun’ for some reason.

"Why don't you guys just become prefects yourselves? Don’t you think it’d be simpler? You’d get access to the bathroom anytime you want without any trouble." Elsa says, speaking logically.

The room smells of a mix of flowers and vanilla and citrus fruits. The glow of her wand shines against the slippery floors. Did someone have a bubble bath and not clean up the mess?

Hans snorts. "Do you really think the Headmaster is going to let people like us become prefects?"

Okay, good point.

But, _still_, she thought their choice of places to explore is a _little _mundane, until she steps further into the room and decides, _This is **not** a Bathroom, this is a Bath House._ For goodness sake, the tub’s the size of a swimming pool and it has a _diving board_. And – why are there a million and one taps?

“What’s our objective tonight?” Elsa says, though something already told her she knew.

“We’re going to show you how to have fun.”

“W – _What?_ I know how to have fun!” Elsa protests.

“With magic?” Hans challenges.

“Magic isn’t supposed to be fun.” Elsa says, a low mumble in an attempt to hide the sudden sharpness in her voice. She crosses her arm and hopes she doesn’t look prude.

“See, I knew it. That’s why you were in a bad mood when I talked to you at the library and that’s why you’re so damn interested in our adventures. You’re the studious type, aren’t you? The one who only uses magic for lessons? I bet you practice your wrists swishes on a daily. You want something to spice up your life.”

Elsa blanches. “N – No, I’m not – I’m –”

There’s irritation brimming at the edge of her voice. She wants him to take magic seriously – not that it’s a particularly difficult task to begin with – but he probably sees their misadventure as a game. A silly little plaything. He sees magic as something fun, for goodness sake! Doesn’t he know how reckless his thinking is?

“You don’t –” Elsa shutters. “You don’t have to make me sound so boring.” She finishes because how is she supposed to tell him her true intentions? Does he really not think strange of her? Of her Boggart and the day he helped her?

"Honestly, Elsa, when's the last time you used magic for fun?" He asks.

Elsa doesn’t say anything back. Not at first, at least. He’s hit a nerve but she’s _trying_ to pretend to act nonchalant. (She doesn’t think she’s doing a good job, though, she’s never been good at lying.)

"Never." Elsa says, finally, while, eyeing her shoes.

"Never?" Hans echoes back.

Elsa begins to nod then recalls a time when she _did _see magic as fun. When she had happiness and gleeful expectations. Okay, not never, but –

She snaps out of her daydream when a loud _SPLASH_ pulls her out her thoughts.

“Ya look like a wet dog!” Merida laughs, pointing at Adam who’s slipped in the swimming pool-sized bath.

Adam doesn’t reply but a shriek coming from Merida tells Elsa Adam’s decided to send a wave of soapy water at her way.

And before Elsa can even comprehend what’s happening, she hears the sound of scuffling feet and sees Merida practically body slam Hans into the pool to create some form of human-canon ball wave, an act of revenge on Adam.

“DunBroch!” Hans sputters once his head is above water.

A snort escapes Elsa’s throat.

But it doesn’t last long, Elsa’s laugh stops short when she notices Merida’s eyes now looking at her.

“O – Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

.

.

.

She wasn’t planning on over-indulging the moment, but she will admit, it _was_ fun.

* * *

**v**

* * *

"It's not the same Boggart." Mulan says, making Elsa jump and Belle to lose her paragraph.

Elsa looks up from a book that Adam had recommended her (She knows, it’s strange sentence. Who’d ever think that The Beast would recommend reading material to someone like Elsa? Especially when the material is about enchanted relics.) before she shields the title of the tomb slightly with her arm and asks, "What Boggart?"

“Do you remember that rumour about the boy who found a Boggart in an unused trunk?” Mulan asks, sliding into a seat next to Belle.

Elsa’s eyes go wide. “Did you figure out who the boy was?”

“Ah, no. But I did figure out that Boggart in the trunk is not the same Boggart used in Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“What?” This time, it was Belle who asked.

"It’s totally random but – Cinderella brought up Boggarts when we were swapping notes. For some reason, I remembered what you told me, that story about Westergaard saving you during Dark Arts class – hey, did you ever get a chance to thank him?”

“Uh … no.” Elsa answers sheepishly.

“Okay, we need to circle back on that later. How long have you been sitting on it? A month? A month plus? Anyway, the Boggart issue wouldn’t leave me alone and I got a little curious so I asked the professor on whether the Boggart used in the classroom had at any point escape and he said that it hadn’t so – to conclude –there's a Boggart on the loose."

"Actually, I read up on magical creatures and I have to tell you that Boggarts are harmless." Belle says, either defensive or bragging of her knowledge.

"They're_ not_ harmless, they make me want to pee myself," Mulan says. And that’s saying a lot from someone who prides herself as a Gryffindor.

"Aren't you supposed to be brave?" Belle argues.

Mulan gives her friend a look. "Being brave doesn't mean being unafraid."

* * *

The Room of Requirement spins and a Thestral manifests itself from a wardrobe that Elsa opens.

She had screamed a little before that, something that said bloody murderer, but now it feels like she can’t move, and her shoes may as well be glued to the ground.

Unsurprisingly, it isn’t Adam who had reaches Elsa first, even with his long legs and athletic build, nor is it Hans who can be awfully fast when he wants to be. It’s Merida who’s first; running into the room, reacting to Elsa's scream.

Even when the dark creature morphs into a hybrid of horse and black bear, exposing itself as a Boggart, Elsa's heart still races. She scrambles to her feet, letting fear guide her, and then –

She ran.

.

.

.

She may as well be blind running in the weather like this.

The rain pours into her eyes, the storm blows her sideways and her uniform sticks to her like second skin. Her feet don’t stop moving until she’s under a tree, gasping for air, her lungs feeling overused. Her cape swishes behind her like she’s Red Riding Hood in the woods.

For a brief, still moment, she thinks she’s _safe._

Then she hears a crack above her head, a different kind from thunder, and sees branches reaching for her – the manner like forest hands ready to snatch children and drag them into the unknown.

She wouldn't have had a chance to scream even if she wanted to, but a sudden zap petrifies the tree long enough for the back of her robes to be tugged, and soon, she’s tumbling downhill with someone falling with her.

It isn't until she’s at the bottom, with scrapes and bruises and grass stains, does she realise – (1) the Whomping Willow almost killed her and (2) some idiot had risked his life to save her.

And that idiot is Hans.

"Are you insane?!" He yells, shivering from the howling wind and grey clouds. His emerald eyes glint with a danger she didn't know she needed to fear.

He had pulled her away from the Whomping Willow but he still had his hands on her shoulders. He’s shaking her so violently that she wonders if she’s _still_ in harm's way.

"What's wrong with you?!" He asks her, anger in his voice.

If that tree hadn't killed her, Elsa’s certain Hans is _going to_. It’s evident from the pure rage that trickles off him like rainwater.

"You could have been _killed_! You could have _died_! Do you want to die, Elsa? Do you want _me_ to see you slip away? You can’t do that to me, I won’t let you! I won’t allow it! Not again! Not ever –!" Hans stops, unable to say anything more. Elsa’s soaked to the bone, ice plastered to her clothes, and he’s not helping by striking fear into her.

He grabs his wand, it had rolled along with them downhill. He inspects it; fortunately, it’s still whole instead of snapped into two pieces, and then casts an umbrella incantation.

“Come on,” He tells her.

She struggles but wills herself to her feet, she should get out of the rain and away from that deadly tree.

It’s only when she’s under those dimly light torches did she allow herself to shake. Merida and Adam do little to hide their worry; and Hans?

He struggles, but manages to pull his sweater over his head before wrapping it around Elsa’s shoulders. Previously she had looked like a hideous blueberry, now she looks like her great-aunt had dressed her to match the Christmas tree.

Elsa doesn’t say anything though, she doesn’t remind Hans that she doesn’t mind the cold – a lot of things never bothers her anyway.

* * *

**vi**

* * *

He sputters, that same dangerous glint shone in his eyes. “After everything’s that happened you expect me to just –?”

“Yes!” She hisses.

“You can’t come exploring with us! Not anymore! You almost died! You almost –! I can’t put you in such a dangerous situation again!”

“You couldn’t have known!”

“Couldn’t I?!” He says this with a sharpness behind it. “You don’t know the things I know! You’ve never seen the things I’ve seen!” All that frustration has caught up to him. It startles Elsa.

“Y – You –” She shutters. “You can’t just kick me out!”

“Why not?”

“Because – Because –” _Do you know something that I don’t?_

“Elsa, I’ve seen the way you act, you refuse to use your wand, you refuse to use magic to defend yourself. What if I wasn’t there? What if I hadn’t acted fast enough? What if I hadn’t cast the correct spell? What then?” He sounds like an angry dog biting at someone’s heels.

“I don’t care, Hans!”

“You don’t care? You don’t care that you almost died? You’re not _afraid_?” He asks her, daring her to say ‘yes’.

“I – I –”

“You were right, okay?” He says suddenly. “You’re _right_, magic **isn’t** fun. It’s dangerous and I can’t put you at risk.”

She doesn't know how to respond or what to do. She doesn’t even move when Hans does – unwrapping his folded arms and standing as straight as a ruler. His emerald cape floats behind him and he leaves, leaves, leaves.

* * *

She is afraid.

And it has a form – dark winged horses.

Her fear of Thestrals is _more _than just the fear of the creature itself.

It’s about _the message_ that came with it. The reminder that Elsa has seen death with her own two eyes, understood the concept, accepted it and then come to terms with it: that _anyone_ she loves could die and that death was _always _around the corner.

It wasn't the fear of _a beast_, she doesn’t think she fears monsters, but she _is _afraid of Death looming.

To her, this was her fear – the symbolism of death. Her ability to see Thestrals is a horrible reminder, like a scar that will never fade and heal.

Elsa isn't sure if Hans has a similar concept or if Thestrals meant differently to him – perhaps the dark horses are simply a nightmarish creature which he cannot tame. His fear of them could mean _anything_, but, his ability to see them was unquestionable.

He had seen death.

Either way, Elsa hopes Hans _didn't_ fear death the same way she did. She didn’t think he did. He didn’t act like it, anyway – risking his life every other day for reasons still unknown to her.

.

.

.

Living with the fear of death is a horrible way of living – there’s no other way of wording it.

The source of all her fears rooted itself in a spell that backfired.

Her mother was a witch, and when Elsa was ten, there was an accident involving a new spell.

_“Under the wizarding law, you’re not allowed to cast spells just yet, but you can practice once you’re at Dumstrang.” _Her mother, Idunna, had said. _“They won’t teach you this at school, it’ll be a new magic trick that you’ll master, Elsa.”_

It was supposed to be a fun lesson. But it wasn't fun. It was a _disaster_, Anna had laid hurt and Idunna … well, she was no longer breathing.

_"Papa, I don't want to use my magic anymore. I want to conceal it."_ Elsa had cried to her father.

Her _Muggle_ father who didn't have one bone in his body that could make a feather float nor make China plates fly against a wall, disagreed strongly.

Her father had found articles of children who had suppressed their magic – paragraphs and proof of children going mad, utterly insane, by closing themselves off.

_“You have to go to some school of magic, Elsa.”_ Her father had said after Elsa refused to go to Dumstrang Institute. _“You can come home during the holidays, you needn’t worry.”_

Elsa had refused at the time, but her father had continued, feeding her article after article.

_“You must go.”_ He had said while little Anna blinked her teal eyes, a shade of blue Elsa will never forget.

The article that had haunted Elsa the most was an old newspaper clipping from the United Kingdom, of a girl named Arianna Dumbledore, who died at age fourteen. Arianna's picture would play on loop, staring at Elsa the same way Elsa stared at those soulless eyes.

And that’s how Elsa had decided that – _“There. I’ll go to Hogwarts.”_ – because the article had also written support of the cause. Elsa had thought, maybe she could find out more – maybe there would be people there who could give her answers, show her their detailed research on how to treat her magic, find out the minimum amount of magic required to not go mad.

Her father had intended to show her all this as a lesson, a way to teach her to be stronger. But she was _ten_, she didn't need to be ‘stronger’, she needed reassurance and protection.

The fact that Elsa had knowledge that her magic could kill _anybody_ unintentionally scared her further. However, the unfortunate truth was, there was no avoiding it. She needed to use it, or she would lose her mind. It was the biggest contributed to why she feared her magic, only occasionally using her magic as an obligation than anything.

But, even then, even after going to Hogwarts and receiving an education that painted magic in a positive light – Elsa couldn’t stomach returning home for the holidays. She couldn’t stand looking out at her backyard and she couldn’t stand hearing –

_"Do the magic!"_ Anna would say, her teal eyes eager and her round face splitting into a grin. Her baby sister still trusted magic despite everything that had happened.

Elsa had recoiled, choosing to lock herself in her room. And then she stopped packing her bags when it was time to go home.

_“But it’s Christmas!”_ Anna had cried.

_“No, Anna, I’m sorry – I can’t.”_ Elsa would reply. Then she sat in the Ravenclaw tower, letting the snow fall, not bothered by the cold.

* * *

**vii**

* * *

"Are you no longer friends with Westergaard?”

The question startles Elsa as she raises her pen away from her sketchbook to see a familiar figure standing by the door of her bedroom. Belle: bookish, observant, sneaky for her own good.

There had been a time when Elsa had wondered why Belle didn't go to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, it was nearer and fancier, but Belle clarified that the people in her village never did like her for being half-veela, so she expected the same treatment in Beauxbatons.

_"I've always wanted to travel anyway."_ Belle had said when she told her tale of woe, shrugging like it was nothing.

Hogwarts was far from France – but, then again, it was far from Norway too and Elsa’s avoiding Dumstrang Institute for the same reason. She didn’t want to be close to home, it brought back too many memories.

"What gave it away?" Elsa replies.

There's no point going to the long way and concocting a brand-new lie, Elsa’s an awful liar, and with Belle’s information-gathering skills, she’s is bound to find out one way or another. Her friend’s too observant for her own good.

“You aren’t very good at sneaking out, I’m surprised nobody caught you.” Belle says and takes a seat beside Elsa on her bed, waiting for an answer.

It’s raining outside but the pitter-patter of water does little to soothe Elsa’s mind. It reminds her of that night at the skirts of the Forbidden Forest where she almost became as a flat as a pancake and where Hans had saved her – for real, this time.

“It’s more exploring than sneaking out.” Elsa explains slowly.

"Interesting," Belle says, tapping her chin in thought. "Did you find anything?"

Elsa smiles. It’s exactly like Belle to compare Elsa’s ‘midnight strolls’ to events she’s read in her adventure novels. “We found an old junk room.” Elsa replies.

Belle frowns disappointedly then teases, “You’re boring.”

“Yeah,” Elsa says, though there’s not much humour in her voice. “That’s why I got kicked out. I’m no fun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Elsa says and shrugs then looks down at her sketchbook and starts doodling random designs.

“Was it nice while it lasted though?”

“Yeah.”

Belle nods, a steady rhythm, then asks somewhat of an odd question. “If you didn’t find out anything exciting about the old castle then did you at least uncover secrets held by the Slytherins?”

Elsa pulls a face, eyebrows knitted and mouth set. “Why would they have secrets?” Elsa asks back.

“Because they keep to themselves and in a book, that’s the perfect tightly-knitted set-up made for mysteries.”

“Ah.” Elsa says and drops her stern expression. “They seem like a regular rambunctious bunch of teenagers to me.”

Belle squints her brown eyes at Elsa. “Are you sure about that?”

Elsa mirrors her friend’s expression, now back to looking serious. “Why? What have you heard?”

Belle smiles, slow and steady, then she picks at her sweater and says, “Only rumours.”

* * *

"Oi, lassie!"

Elsa shuffles slowly; tired and miserable for a Saturday morning.

"Lassie!" A voice booms in Elsa's right ear, causing the platinum blonde to jump before Elsa feels a hand steady her arm.

Elsa yelps then turns and is met with wild red curls, a round face and baby blue eyes – Merida.

"I've been callin' out for ya for a while now. Ya best keep yer ears peeled." Merida says, her accent thick.

"Sorry." Elsa mumbles, confused to why Merida’s approaching her so openly. Her expression must have said it all because Merida explains herself in the form of a question.

"Why are ya wearing' one o' our jumpers?" Merida asks.

What? 'Our'?

Elsa thinks she’s misunderstood everything that’s come out of the Scottish girl's mouth until Merida tugs on the sleeve of Elsa’s arm and her eyes followed.

Oh.

_Oh._

She understands. She's not wearing the colours of her house, Elsa's not even wearing her own clothes; she’s wearing a Slytherin sweater, Hans’ sweater – the one from her misadventure with the Whomping Willow.

"Um," Elsa chokes out, panicking.

No wonder the sleeves felt longer than usual, she thought she was just imagining things, but she should have noticed!

Elsa blames the bad mood that had fallen on her. She had woken up with a headache and blamed it on Hans. He didn’t need to shut her out like that. He didn’t need to eject her from the group.

Elsa didn't plan to look her best when arriving at the Great Hall, she simply wanted to stay long enough to eat then head back to the Tower to rest, so she had picked up the nearest article of clothing – it could have been yesterday’s clothes for all she cares – then descended down the stairs.

“I – I’m _so _sorry.” Elsa says, she feels like breaking down.

“What are ya sorry ‘bout?” Merida asks, seeing the distress etched on Elsa’s face.

“Well – Well – I’m not exactly part of the group anymore so you must think that I’m doing something petty by strutting around in a Slytherin sweater,”

“What nonsense are ya talkin’ ‘bout?! I don’t mind ya wearin’ our colours, I think green suits ya!”

What?

“Look ‘ere, I’ve not come tae intimidate ya. I'm not goin’ tae scold anyone. I’m not talkin’ tae ya for the sake of talkin’, I’m talkin’ tae ya because I want tae.” Merida says.

Elsa sniffs.

“Dis has nothin’ tae do with Hans. He’s being a bit o’ a cunt for tellin’ ya what tae do but he means well. Just let him cool down for a bit then I’m sure it’ll be fine." Merida advises then pulls of Elsa's sleeve again and adds, "Also, I figured I’d give ya a heads-up. I can’t be the only Slytherin who’s noticed ya. The others might be wonderin’ why a girl they don't know is wearin' their house colours. I don’t want anyone gettin’ the wrong idea or startin’ any trouble,”

"O – Oh, that's reasonable. I'm sorry, I jumped to conclusions." Elsa shutters.

Merida lets the issue roll off her shoulders. "Don't fret 'bout it, it's alright. If anyone starts any shit with ya, we'll come runnin',"

"We?"

"Aye. _We._ You may not believe it, because of the recent spat, but, the lads and I; we care about ya, we see ya as one o’ us.” Merida reassures.

“Y – You do?” Elsa blinks. “You see me as … a fellow Slytherin?”

A smile tugs on Merida’s lips. “Even better: a friend.”

* * *

She had come even after he had told her not to. She had stumbled into the Room of Requirement and then stumbled into _something else_: a dangerous creature.

It growls at her, baring its sharp teeth and forces her to scramble up a mountain – the pile of old furniture Merida often mocked. Fear takes a hold of her, making her heart race and her palms sweat as she moved with purpose; one hand over the other, one foot in front of the other. She’s frightened, she thinks she even screamed beforehand.

What was she thinking? Why did she break the rules? Why didn’t she listen to Hans?

It isn’t until she’s atop of the pile does she stare back at the creature and notices something familiar: _those eyes._

No ... it can't be.

But, it is.

Those bright blue eyes held the same intense gaze and same piecing colour as –

“A – Adam?” Elsa asks, pressing herself into an old cabinet set at the top of the mountain. Something pokes hard into her side.

'The Beast' – Elsa finally understands the nickname. A secret among the Slytherins. They were keeping a werewolf!

Elsa takes her eyes off the werewolf who starts ascending up the pile and pulls out her wand, ready to cast a spell when someone shouts, "Don't hurt him!"

“B – Belle?” Elsa blanches, staring at the brunette who stands at the mouth of the room, a broom in hand.

“And Mulan!” The Asian girl says, appearing between the shoulder of her taller friend as she waves her own broom in the air.

What the hell? Does everyone know about Adam being a werewolf but her?

"Elsa!" Hans skids to a stop once he lays his eyes on the scene. "Ah, fuck, Moon Moon."

"M – Moon Moon?" Elsa shutters, still trying to press herself into a corner.

“No time to explain!”

"Hans?!" Merida shouts.

"In here!"

The Beast (Moon Moon?) turns, distracted by the increasing amount of people in the room.

“We’ll explain later,” Hans promises Elsa then jumps into action. “Merida, you come with me, we’ll cause a scene and lure Moon Moon away,” He stares at Belle and Mulan. “One of you get Elsa with your broomstick, and when you have her somewhere safe, both of you come for us, understand?”

The girls nodded then everything fell into place.

.

.

.

Until it didn’t.

.

.

.

The Room of Requirement was cold and the snow spell Elsa had cast didn’t do much. It left a flurry of snowflakes in her wake but the werewolf was still up and moving.

There’s a change of plans. Belle became the one to be left somewhere safe as opposed to Elsa because, as it turns out, Belle wasn’t all that great at riding a broom. The reason she had opposed to Mulan’s broom work mischief is because she has a fear of flying.

Elsa, on the other hand, manages to swallow down her fear, speed and skill meant something at a time like this. They needed two fliers to rescue two people, that was the logic behind it.

“We had originally planned to trap Moon Moon in the Room of Requirement and have a chill night until the sun rose but it looks like that’s not gonna happen, is it?” Hans says, his grip practically a death grip around Elsa’s shoulders.

“What about the mirror of erised?” She asks as wind whistles in her ear. By locking Adam in the room, they risked the werewolf finding the old relic and smashing it up.

“Who cares about the mirror!”

“But you said –!”

“I’m loyal to my friends, not some old piece of furniture.”

"Never thought that I'd befriend a Gryffindor," Merida says ridding beside them, teasing Mulan in a relief manner as her arms circled around the girl’s waist.

“Don’t look so pleased.” Elsa shouts over their acrobatics. Then she looks at Mulan. “And _you_. How long have you known?”

“About Adam? Not long. Probably five minutes before you did. Belle saw that you weren’t in your bed, grabbed her broom, flew from the Ravenclaw tower to the Gryffindor tower. She was shaking badly, I could see how scared she was, but she managed to tell me how we needed to find Westergaard and DunBroch. I didn’t understand anything until I saw the werewolf and thought, ‘Ooohhh, this is bad’,”

Elsa sighs. ‘Bad’ isn’t even a correct word to describe it. The werewolf was fast. It was jumping from one pile onto the other like the act was nothing!

"So you can fight a Werewolf but you can't stand up against a Boggart?" Hans asks, probably sensing Elsa’s shoulders bunching up under his hands.

"It took shape of a Thestral! You were scared of the Boggart too! Don't get sassy with me, you bastard, I saw how the Boggart didn’t change shape after you approached it.”

"Wait, you knew?"

Adam howled, sounding too close for comfort.

"I need to talk to you about that later." Elsa says.

"Sudden but okay."

.

.

.

“So, basically, we don’t sneak out for no reason. Multiple times a week, we explore the castle and try to help Adam find a safe place he can remain in his werewolf-form. It's always been a dead-end but I think the Room of Requirement may contain him for now.” Hans explains as the five of them gathered in the kitchen, hands nursing a cup of warm tea.

“And you decided to name Adam’s werewolf form ‘Moon Moon’?” Mulan asks.

“Don’t look at the wee lad so disappointed,” Merida chimes between the rim of her cup. "It’s more o’ an inside joke between us now. Most of Slytherin calls Adam ‘The Beast’. Hans didn't come up with the name himself! It was our _first_ draft and everyone in Slytherin opted for it until the current ‘The Beast’ title stuck, we are not in the creative house for a reason!"

As the explanation left Merida’s mouth, something clicks in Elsa’s head and she turns to Belle.

"You knew!” The platinum blonde gaps. “You knew that Adam’s was a werewolf and you knew that tonight’s full moon would affect him!”

Belle looks sheepishly into her drink then asks, “What gave it away?”

“You _nickname_ people, Belle. You call Professor Ursula ‘The Sea Witch’ and Professor Facilier ‘The Shadow Man’, did you really think that I wouldn’t have guessed who gave Adam the nickname ‘The Beast’? You're not being very subtle.” Elsa says.

“I’m sorry,” Belle says. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, I just didn’t think I had the right to say.”

“You left crumbs around though.”

"I did," Belle admits. "But only because I knew that you _would_ find out eventually, and –” Belle says before her brown eyes swept over to the duo in green. “– I thought that, maybe, help from a new friend wouldn’t hurt.”

Elsa nods, not knowing what else to say.

Mulan kicks her legs from the counter she sat at. Hans hides a thankful smile behind his cup and Merida says, “I didn’t hurt at all. It was worth it. We’ve found a room for Adam and we’ll let ol’ Moon Moon out at sunrise.”

* * *

**viii**

* * *

The sheet hasn’t covered the mirror in weeks.

They found themselves meeting as if they had scheduled a time and planned it all – sitting on the equally dusty floor, arms folded and knees brought to their chests. The hours and days they had spent pouring over tombs of books do little to help to ease their questions and frustrations – but maybe that was _their fault_ for not specifying what was it exactly that they aimed to achieve.

Her desire isn’t all that impossible, she’s accepted that. What she wants isn’t what she needs, but returning to the Room of Requirement did give her solace.

"What do you see?" Hans asks Elsa, almost in a quiet voice.

Elsa doesn’t lift her gaze but she knows what he means is, ‘What do you desire the most?’ and weeks ago that would have been the last thing she had wanted to hear, the last thing she had wanted to answer.

‘It’s none of your business,’ She would have said, because that would mean explaining herself.

But, had she tried to get close to Hans and befriended him just to ask a similarly personal question. ‘Who was it? Who did you see die and why are you so afraid?’ Just like the Boggart, the mirror ties itself to her just as she is tied to him.

Elsa doesn’t even need to take a moment to think of an answer. “My family, it’s been a while since I last saw them.” Elsa says. "I miss my sister the most but it’s odd seeing her in the mirror." Without that strip of white hair. "What do you see?" Elsa asks back.

"My mother."

"Do you miss her too?" Elsa inquires, not knowing Hans could have such an ache for a person.

Hans nods.

"You should write letters then," Elsa suggests. "I often do to my sister."

Hans’ features hardened, and for a moment, Elsa thinks she’s crossed an invisible line.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –“

"No, it’s okay. I never told you. You can’t write letters to the dead."

“Is that how …?”

“Yes, I started seeing Threstals after that. I was thirteen when she passed.”

Elsa considers the weight of his words then asks, "Why did you cast the _Riddikulus_ spell for me, Hans?”

“I couldn't just leave you petrified.”

Elsa pauses for a moment, thinking. "Was it the first time you’ve faced that sort of Boggart?”

Another stretch of silence on Hans' part.

Finally, he answers. “No.”

Elsa bites her lip. She fears her question will send Hans’ blood cold. “There was a rumour, of a boy that nearly fainted when a Boggart had shaped itself into a dark horse and surprised him ...” She starts cautiously. “... that was you, wasn’t it?”

Hans inhales sharply. “Yes.”

“You know …” She says, careful once more. “My mother, she’s passed away too. I see her when I look into the mirror of erised.”

He turns to face her. “Why have you never said anything about it?”

“What could I have said?” She asks back. “I miss her, but, I’ve also accepted that she’s passed. There’s nothing I can do to bring her back. I would rather come to that reality than deny it.”

Hans’ mouth forms a thin line, not exactly a frown, but it still it’s an expression she can’t seem to read.

"You know, I'm really glad I came to Hogwarts.” Elsa begins. “I was supposed to go to Dumstrang – my sister goes there – but I chose not to.”

Hans gives her a curious look. “Why?”

“My mother … she was trying to teach me a new spell, it was supposed to be fun, but it backfired. I kept thinking that, after what happened to her, I figured I would repeat history and be the worse witch in the history of magic.” Elsa says, her hands fidgeting together. “I’m not saying I’m blaming her but … I didn’t want to be reminded of magic or home. So … Hogwarts was an option.”

Hans stayed silent but listened.

“It's funny. When I first got my Hogwarts letter, I didn't want to go – which is ridiculous, because I had told my father to enrol me, but I felt like I didn't deserve it. I felt horrible, truly. But … eventually … I went anyway, not because the owls wouldn't stop raining letters down my chimney or because they kept relieving themselves in the living room. I told my myself that it was because of Hogwarts' viewpoints on children and magic, but, I think – deep down – it was more because I felt like, if I didn't go, then I would be creating even more problems. So, I went, but –” Elsa stops to pick at the sleeve of her sweater. It’s green. “I spent a lot of night just staring at the canopy of my bed. I found that I couldn't sleep a lot in first year, Belle helped a lot. We would stay up and play cards until I got too tired to care about my worries. I thought I was just an anxious eleven year old kid, but then, maybe when I was thirteen, I mentioned the Threstals – of course, I referred to them as the dark horses that pulled the carriages. Belle didn't seem to understand what I was implying. I thought I was crazy, I've been able to see them since stepping onto Hogwarts grounds but it didn't seem like anyone could.”

Now Elsa’s tracing shapes on the stone floor and she wonders if Hans is staring at her.

“I did some researching after that. It was difficult considering that not a lot of people have knowledge of Threstrals. But, I managed to find a copy of Fantastic Beasts. It was sitting on a table at the library – but, now that I think about it, Belle must have put it there when she invited me to read with her. It was written by, um, someone by the name of Scamander. His writing deemed him as someone who was very interested in understanding these creatures, and because of that, I found a detailed section on Threstals. I found all the details I needed. It turns out, I wasn't insane, which was good news but, I don't know, when I found out that _you _could see them too, I just felt relieved that I wasn't the only one.”

Hans offers a small smile, “Well, it’s good to know that you haven’t lost your mind. But, the real question is: do you trust magic now?”

"I …" Elsa pauses, thinking how magic comes in many forms. Not just spells and incantations. "Maybe."

“You need more eye-opening experiences, I suppose.” Hans says understandingly then suggests, “You should visit your sister at Dumstrang. I have a pen pal there, he told me there's a one year exchange program. It would be … a nice new scenery, don’t you think?”

A slow creeping smile tugs at her lips. “It would be lovely to see Anna and her school.” Then something nudges her in the chest. It might have been reassurance. It might have been something else. “I wouldn’t mind over-coming my fear.”

“That’s awfully brave of you, Ravenclaw.”

“You can be brave too. The way my mother passed … it still affects me, but, I’ve come to terms that I can’t change my mother’s death. I don’t want to push. I don’t want to pry you and ask details of your mother’s passing, but if we work together, I’m sure we can help each other over-come our fears.”

Hans huffs out a laugh then stands, grabbing the sheet from the floor. He was going to cover it. “I wouldn’t mind.”

With his back turned, Elsa spoke, sounding soft. “Hans?” She says.

“Yeah?”

She hopes his eyes still looking away from her. “Thank you.”

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Notes 4: Sorry, I can’t be dramatic without mentioning dead, but let's be real – Elsa’s absolutely terrified that she'll kill somebody with her magic and I'm leaning hard on that.  
I'm also leaning hard on bad parenting, I hope the second movie changes my mind on how I see the King and Queen of Arendelle because, I didn't realise how much I wanted Elsa and Anna relocated to the Corona family until I wrote **evil is its own reward**. I came to an epiphany that 'everything' could have been fixed if Elsa and Anna had better 'magic accepting parents'. The Coronas legit could have taken better care of Elsa and Anna because they embraced magic way before Rapunzel was even born. They were just like, "Magic flower that came from the sun?? Holy shit, that's good stuff!" while the Arendelles were like “I don’t like it, we gonna hide it.”
> 
> Notes 5:  
Anna: I'm completely ordinary.  
Kermit meme layout –  
Hans with a hood covering his face, poisoning my brain: Make Anna a squib.  
Me: ... You absolute cunt.
> 
> Notes 6: The concept of buying a broomstick just to play a sport is so stupid to me. First years are obligated to buy brooms to learn how to fly like a basic witch and then there are no more classes for flying. Like ??? Can it be used for transport on school grounds?? Or just used for Quidditch?? You're telling me I was tricked to do sports? Bitch, ever stop to think that I'm acrophobic? What then? You think I'm gonna suck up my fear of height for a chance to chase a ball?  
Also, stairs? Fuck that. I'm going to use my broom everywhere cause I paid for the damn thing. What are you going to do? Deduct my points? Ooohhh, I'm so scared. There are **literal ghosts** at Hogwarts. Do it, take my points away, the point system makes no sense anyway! I don't need an over-glorified cup. Walking? What's that? I'm flying with style! You'll see me flying two feet off the ground to class. _Zoom._
> 
> – 2 November 2019


End file.
